“And you’re telling me this because?”
“I got a call late last night from a rodeo cowboy — guy named Johnny Stringer. I think you know the name.”
“Johnny Stringer,” I repeated slowly. “The String Man?”
“That’s the guy. He said he knew you.”
“Johnny rode broncs,” I said. “He was pretty good in his day. I haven’t seen him in a few years.”
I’d done a feature on Stringer ten years earlier, maybe more. Years before that, he’d been part of a search that went on for weeks after a plane went down in northern California. The plane had four Canadian cowboys aboard, and dozens of people, including cowboys from both sides of the border, flew into the rugged mountain ranges between Cloverdale, British Columbia, and San Francisco in search of the downed plane. Johnny was one of those guys — he had his own plane and put his own rodeo career on hold to help in the search. The search went on most of the summer but was finally called off.
The wreckage was found months later by a hunter. It was a tough moment for a sport that defines itself by its fearlessness and independent spirit. Johnny Stringer talked quietly and reluctantly about his part in the search. His story was a compelling one and I won a couple of awards for the piece when it was published. Those plaques were among the things that were destroyed in the fire that claimed Donna’s life in 2006.
“Been a while since I’ve talked to Johnny.”
“He remembered you.”
“He asked about me, did he?”
“No, he asked for you.”
I didn’t get that. “For me. I don’t understand.”
“He called me because he couldn’t find your number, but it was you he wanted to talk to.”
“About what?”
“Well, that takes us back to that incident at the Stampede grounds last night. Seems a rodeo contestant ended up spread-eagled in the middle of the infield. Large Bowie knife buried up to the hilt in the guy’s chest. The body was found late last night. Word spread among the cowboy community. Turns out the guy was a friend of Stringer’s, and The String Man, as you refer to him, called me about midnight.”
“Uh-huh.” Suddenly I wasn’t sure I liked the direction of the conversation.
“Naturally there was widespread concern among competitors and Stampede officials. Johnny told some people that he knew a guy named Cullen who’s been involved in some high-profile investigations with some other guy whose name he couldn’t remember at first.” Cobb chuckled at that.
“It finally came to him. Johnny said he’d make a call. I was the call he made. Looking for you.”
“So you said. Johnny ever hear of the police?”
“Apparently the rodeo folks aren’t confident that the local constabulary are up to the task.”
“They made that assessment after a couple of hours?”
“I think it’s more ingrained attitude than assessment.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I said you were on hiatus but that I’d talk to you.”
“Did you tell him that you’re the actual investigator?”
“I mentioned that, yes.”
“So, why this call?”
“Like I said, I told him I’d talk to you. He wants both of us. Cullen and Cobb. And actually, so do I. I could use your help on this.”
Cullen and Cobb. Funny how that phrase had worked its way into the lexicon of the city. I’d even heard that Mayor Nenshi had mentioned Cullen and Cobb during a speech he gave to a group of urban planners in Toronto. And I had to admit I liked the phrase — the sound of it, what it meant … what it had meant to me.
“I don’t need an answer right now,” Cobb said. “Just think about it, okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Seriously, I need you to think about it.”
“I will. I’ll think about it.”
“Give Jill and Kyla hugs for me.”
“I will. My best to your clan, as well.”
We ended the call. Jill took our mugs, went into the house and came back a few minutes later with refills. She set mine down and touched my arm before settling back into the lawn chair, her feet tucked up under her. She didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to.
I thought back on what had happened in the time I’d worked with Cobb — we’d done some good, that was true, but I had to weigh that against the horrors I’d seen, the face of evil I’d looked into and that had looked back at me. I’d sworn after that night in the alley that I was done. And I saw no reason now to change my mind.
I looked at Jill. She was watching me. Looking for a sign? She smiled a little smile at me. I smiled back.
Cullen and Cobb. It did sound good.
I reached for the Herald.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The Cullen and Cobb series has been one of the great joys of my literary life. I look forward to spending time with Adam, Mike, and their families, and I love the time writing this series has afforded me to spend prowling the streets and hideaways of my beloved Calgary. The series could not happen — and that is certainly the case with this book — without the amazing contributions of so many. That group includes everyone at Dundurn, from Kirk Howard and (the now departed — I miss her) Beth Bruder; the editing team for None So Deadly — Allison Hirst (developmental editor), Jenny McWha (project editor), and Claire Wilkshire (freelance copy editor); art director Laura Boyle (cover) and freelance designer Lorena Gonzalez Guillen (interior); and publicists Michelle Melski and Tabassum Siddiqui. Thanks as always to my tireless agent, Arnold Gosewich. And special gratitude to the people I consulted with and who were so generous with their time and expertise: Dr. Adam Vyse, retired policeman Mike O’Connor, and particular thanks to Detective Michael Cavilla, CPS Homicide Unit, who went way above and beyond in his help with this book.
On a grander scale, I thank, most of all, my family—my late dad who instilled in me early on a love of reading and, in particular, of reading crime fiction; my mom, who fostered in me my love for all things Calgary, my sons, Murray and Brad, and their families, and my daughter, Amy, and her family — their love and encouragement has meant so much. And, again, Barb, ever supportive, a wonderful first reader and the one I lean on … a lot.
Thank you all.
Book Credits
Developmental Editor: Allison Hirst
Project Editor: Jenny McWha
Copy Editor: Claire Wilkshire
Proofreader: Shari Rutherford
Cover Designer: Laura Boyle
Interior Designer: Lorena Gonzalez Guillen
None So Deadly Page 32
